


Journey (to the end of time, to the start, and everywhere in between)

by sammyspreadyourwings



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe Mermaid, Anal Sex, Brian May's 1974 Hepatitis Diagnosis, Crack Treated Seriously, Depression, Dildos, Divorce, Dom Brian May, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunken Shenanigans, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Forced Servitude, Freddie Mercury Lives, Getting Back Together, Grief/Mourning, HIV/AIDS, Hidden Injuries, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Imprisonment, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Merman!Brian, Minor Injuries, Morning Cuddles, Multi, Open Relationships, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Prince!Roger Taylor, Separations, Sex Toys, Sharing Partners, Storms, Sub Brian May, Topping from the Bottom, Vampire!Freddie Mercury, Vampire!John Deacon, Vampire!Roger Taylor, Visions, Werewolf!Brian May, afraid of the dark, fear of storms, king!au, old!Queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-27 11:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 20,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20947403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: A collection of drabbles for the month of October. The first chapter is a table of contents.





	1. Table of Contents

1\. Table of Content

2\. Ex-poly!Queen - Brian doesn't come back after Freddie's death

3\. Breaky - Proposal

4\. Maylor - Scared of the Dark

5\. (E) Poly!Queen - Using a Dildo (and unrealistic positions)

6\. (E) Poly!Queen - Top!Sub!Bri 

7\. (E) Maylor - Dom!Bri, casual relationship

8\. Frian - Visions

9\. Poly!Queen - King!AU Drunken Fluff

10\. Gen or Poly!Queen - Brian hides an injury

11\. (E) Maylor + Crystal - Roger likes to share

12\. Breaky - Hot Space Drama

13\. Poly!Queen - Old!Queen, Freddie!Lives, soft mornings (frian centric)

14\. Breaky - Mermaid AU

15\. (E) Breaky - Top!bottom!Bri

16\. Pre-Slash - Baker!Crystal

17\. Platonic!Froger - Roger has a late night conversation with an old friend

18\. Breaky - Scared of storms, Brian's POV

19\. Breaky - Scared of storms, John's POV

20\. Poly!Queen - Old!Queen, Freddie!lives, gratuitous cuddling

21\. Poly!Queen - Brian looses his voice

22\. Poly!Roadies - Late night in Japan

23\. Gen - John finds an old birthday card

24\. Poly!Queen - Freddie has a nightmare about Brian (frian centric)

25\. TayTay - Roger wants to be a runaway prince (Breaky, Jimercury mention)

26\. Pre-Slash - Fae!AU, Brian was a captive of the Fae

27\. Maylor - Roger has a surprise for Brian

28\. Breaky - Last First Kiss

29\. Joger - Vampire!AU Impotency (side Frian)

30\. Joger - Meet cute, anonymous texting

31\. (E) MayTay - PWP

32\. Gen - Freddie visits a fortune teller


	2. Come Back

Roger’s hands shake.

They rarely shake.

All he must do is hit the call button; it isn’t that hard. It shouldn’t be hard, at least. Brian, at one point, had been one of the closest people in the world to him. Then Freddie got sick and once Freddie… well once Freddie was gone, it felt like there was nothing else to salvage. Brian had given up.

Roger couldn’t go through it for a second time, not so soon after the first. John had gotten angry and said things he only meant in anger. But it had been enough to shred whatever fabric they had left.

Almost thirty years between them now, he doesn’t know if the hurt ever healed.

He does know that he’s had enough of this. Freddie isn’t coming back, and would frankly be devastated that they _don’t _talk to each other anymore. They’re a family, not just a band. Of course, Roger feels guilty that it was a _health scare _that got him to pick up the phone.

John leans over him and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, “love, you should call him.”

Roger’s thumb twitches.

“We aren’t getting any younger, we never were.”

Longing for the past isn’t something he’s used to. He’d always been a future sighted person, Brian was the dweller and both John and Freddie settled comfortably in the present. Roger knows not calling now is going to haunt him for the rest of his twilight years. The end becoming alarmingly real.

“Do we… do we just reconnect or…”

“We do whatever Brian wants. I just want him back.”

Roger inhales, thinking about how nice it would be to run his hands through Brian’s messy hair and kiss his long fingers. How he can finally lose that cold feeling against his back because he’ll be cocooned.

His thumb twitches, but this time it triggers the call. Roger looks up, but John smiles serenely. He breathes deeply before holding the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

God. It’s really been too long since they’ve spoken. The last time was to greenlight a movie about their lives almost six months ago.

“Brimi, hi, hey.”

“Rog? Is something the matter?”

“No – I – well,” John squeezes his shoulder, “I heard about your fall?”

“Oh, that. I’m fine, a bit bruised and thoroughly lectured,” Brian laughs.

Roger tightens his grip, “that’s good. Really good.”

They’re silent.

“Brian, hey –” “Roger I want –”

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

He looks at John and nods, “do you want to stop by for tea sometime this week? It’s been a long time since we’ve had a chat. And John hasn’t seen you in ages.”

When Brian doesn’t immediately answer Roger feels his heart sink. Had he waited too long? He wouldn’t care about being in a romantic relationship with Brian so long as they had a better one than this. John bites his lip.

“I’d like that. Very much.”

“Great. Good, really good. Message whenever you find the time?”

“Tomorrow?”

John kisses his temple.

“That works perfectly.”


	3. Together Forever

“I never knew it could be this way.”

Brian blinks up lazily at John, “what could be what way?”

“This. Us.”

He hums and stretches, his back popping as he flexes out. John certainly had done a number on him last night. Not that he’s going to complain, and John promised that this would be the entire weekend, nothing demanding their need to be proper. John’s hand smooths down his back and up to his hair. Brian arches his head back without much prompting, he keeps it there even when John drops it and presses his thumb against a high mark on his neck.

“I swore that it wouldn’t be this way,” John muses, “not because I didn’t want it, but because there was too much on the line. Queen. Whether I’d be disowned. You rejecting this but not the sex.”

This time he does roll his eyes, “it was never casual, love.”

Brian remembers long nights where John would keep pulling him away from any potential partners but refusing to treat the relationship as exclusive (despite not taking any partners himself John wouldn’t let it be called monogamy). Their attitudes clashing frequently n the studio and just before the reached the bedroom and the chemistry in the bedroom… well... that was always good. He hadn’t been happy about their situation for a long time.

It changed one day. Nothing spectacular or dramatic, but Brian remembers the day John sat him down and said that he wanted to change everything about their relationship. Brian had agreed and almost a decade and a half later they were still together.

“I love you.”

Brian rolls over so that he’s pinning John’s legs under him, “I love you.”

“Good,” John smiles, “I’d be embarrassed if wasn’t. What would I have done?”

“Cried to Roger?”

“He’s not tired of our drama?”

John reaches over to the nightstand, Brian hums.

“Not yet,” Brian laughs.

John’s hand returns from the nightstand and rubs down his back, “I have a question, another one.”

“Yes?”

“One day, would you like to marry me? But for now, will you wear my ring?”

Brian blinks. John flicks open the box. Inside is a simple silver band with a teardrop diamond.

“The shape reminded me of a guitar pick,” John shrugs.

“Trying to trick me into saying yes?” Brian sits up.

The sheet falls off him revealing his lack of clothes. He braces one arm on the headboard as he leans forward and rests his head on John’s shoulder.

“No trick, I’m confident you’ll say yes.”

Brian pouts that he doesn’t get to surprise John, “I suppose I’ll say yes.”

“Your enthusiasm moves me,” John giggles.

Brian leans back and wiggles his left hand. John slips the ring on. It’s yellow in the early morning light.

“I love it.”

“Good.”

John leans forward and they bump noses. John might not have known it could be like this, but Brian always had hoped it would be.


	4. Bravery

“Scared, me?” Brian _pffts._

Roger looks down at his arm which is currently being strangled by Bri’s iron grip and then back at the guitarist. As best as he can. The lights have gone out in their practice room. Tim is searching for a torch or lantern or some other light source. And while he isn’t going to complain about being clung to by Brian he would really like to keep his arm.

“I’m not scared. Just. I can’t see in the dark.”

He raises an eyebrow, which he knows Brian can’t see.

“It’s okay, B, we all have things we’re afraid of.”

“It’d be silly, wouldn’t it? An astrophysicist being scared of the dark.”

“It’s not silly,” Roger says, “but you don’t like space because it’s dark, rather because of the stars, yes?”

“It is silly! I’m an adult, fearing the dark is for children.”

Roger pries Brian’s hand from his arm but doesn’t drop it. Instead he twists his hand so they’re holding hand now. The grip is still on the edge of bruising, but at least Brian’s nails aren’t digging into his skin any longer.

“I’m afraid of clowns,” Roger offers, “serious.”

“Clowns?”

“Yeah, usually at children’s birthday parties? Creepy red noses, pulling balloons out randomly.”

Brian laughs, “they are rather creepy.”

“Thank you!”

Brian wiggles closer to him.

“The dark is creepy too, like when the coat hanger looks like a person in the middle of the night?” Roger shudders.

Freddie makes fun of him for the time he screamed when he thought their laundry pile was a monster. He isn’t _afraid _but he gets it.

“When I was little, we went on a family camping trip,” Brian says quietly, “and I was so busy looking at the stars that I didn’t notice my parents had kept walking. So I was lost and alone.”

Roger squeezes their linked hands.

“And I guess I never got over that feeling of being alone?”

He crawls as best he can to bring Brian’s head to his chest. It’s something he had done for Clare when they were little and she had been afraid of the tree scratching her window. Something about the steadiness of his heart.

“See, Bri? You aren’t alone.”

Roger feels Brian nod on his chest.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

Roger hums in acknowledgment, hoping that Tim will come back soon with some kind of light. Brian plays with the fringe on the hem of his shirt.

“If there’s ever a clown, I’ll protect you.”

“What are you going to do? Lecture it to death?”

Brian flicks him. He’s sure it was meant to be his nose but it hits his check.

“I’m scrappy.”

Roger snorts, “sure you are Bri. But thank you.”


	5. (E) All at Once

The biggest problem in their relationship, they found out is, sex. Not that they’re incompatible, it’s just tall all of them _love _to bottom. John agrees most of the time to top, mostly because he wants to get off and not spend the next two hours fighting, and it usually comes down to either Brian or Roger.

Freddie refuses, and they aren’t going to make him if he’s that averse to it.

Their solution, or at least partial solution, again comes from John because he’s the only one who can consistently rub two brain cells together when it comes to sex. Roger doesn’t care as long as he has it and Brian usually fucks or gets fucked into silence.

Freddie trusts John to figure it out.

So after a year of this John reveals his latest project. Roger and Brian absolutely lose it when they see it.

“It’s a _fan. _Of _dicks.” _Roger cackles.

Brian wheezes into his side. They clutch onto each other and John sends them an exhausted look. Freddie giggles too but is much more refined.

“You know how none of us want to do the fucking?” John starts.

He wiggles it, which causes another peel of laughter from the duo. Brian is laughing too hard that he’s not making any sound and Roger is crying.

“Yes… what are we going to do with the dick fan?”

John slaps his head with his palm, “use it.”

Freddie’s eyes widen, “oh.”

“I figure we can have Bri eat us out and Roger prep us. They do it for each other, and then well. We fuck the dick fan.”

At least Brian and Roger have stopped laughing. There’s a flush high on Brian’s cheek and Roger’s pupils are blown wide. John wiggles it again, but this time there’s no laughter. He grins in victory.

“It’ll be fun. Trust me.”

* * *

The actual mechanics of the thing were hard to figure out. It ended up with the two across from each other having to lace their legs together. Which means none of them could get a very good angle. Not that John doesn’t mind slowly rocking himself to completion. He’s never gotten the chance to watch all three of his lovers at once.

The way Brian’s figured out how to get a better angle by stretching himself to his full length. Spit has dried on his chin and his neck and chest are littered with bite marks. His eyes are half-mast, and it seems like he’s only concerned about his own pleasure. John knows though, that if he asks, Brian will climb off and suck them dry and not care that he hasn’t gotten an orgasm.

John wonders if he can order him to fuck them, instead of playing rock paper scissors.

Roger is also a sight. His blond hair is plastered to his forehead. He’s leaned forward, abs twitching. He has the slowest pace of them all and he’s showing off his core strength. John swallows as his mouth goes dry. Roger bites his lip in concentration, John can count in time the even rhythm and groans. Roger’s toes flex and he uses one of Brian’s thighs as leverage letting out higher and higher gasps. Oh. He’s going to come soon.

It’s going fucking suck if he conditions himself to pop a boner every time he hears a 4/4 count.

Then there’s Freddie, who is don’t the least amount of work. He’s taking whatever movement he can, that is caused by the other three. Like John he seems more interested in watching instead of doing anything. His dark hair is plastered to his forehead and neck, and his chest is painted form the orgasm Brian “accidentally” wrung out of him. Of course, he told Brian to keep going, so he can’t complain that much.

Roger squeals and tenses his legs. John jumps at the surprise pressure and turns to watch Roger come undone. His neck flexes with the attempt to go higher. Brian is following shortly thereafter, arching beautifully as his dick twitches. He gasps and moans but makes no other noise.

It forces John over the edge too. He leans forward, which is a mistake as some come lands in the edges of his hair. John tries to regain his breath, looking over at Freddie who is rolling his hips more in show than any actual effort.

He’s the first to come down. Roger is out for the rest of the night, and Bri will be with them again in a few minutes.

“Well, is anyone going to fuck me?”

John hates Freddie’s vocal control sometimes. Not a single waver.

“Bri,” he commands, sharp but still weak with unfamiliarity, “catch your breath and then help Freddie out.”

Brian cracks open a single eye and then drops his hand to his dick to bring it back to life. It catches John’s attention.

He wonders if the dick fan is going to be so funny the next time he brings it out.


	6. (E) Order Me

“Come on Bri!” John whines, scraping his nails down Brian’s back, “fuck me harder.”

Brian’s eyes roll back at the order, sharply complying. The air is shoved from John’s lungs and his groan turns into a wheeze.

“Fuck him good, pretty boy,” Roger pants into the shell of his ear, “then come fuck me before I come.”

Brian whines.

“I’m not known for my patience,” Roger pulls away, but not before biting Brian’s earlobe and tugging.

Freddie perks up as Roger comes back to him. Brian sends Freddie a grin, slightly crazed because he hasn’t been allowed to come yet.

“Fuck Brian. Use your cock,” John pushes back against him, “we fuck you enough, you think you’d pick on something.”

Brian pulls out and thrusts back in. John jumps up and nearly chokes Brian as his arms wrap around behind his neck. The slight breathlessness only urges him faster. He smiles before tilting his head and thrusting into John at a shallow but rapid pace, hitting the prostate each time. John’s moans go higher before he drops down into his lowest register.

His thighs squeeze around, Brian’s hips as he comes. He slows down, gently rocking into John as the bassist calms himself. When the whines start becoming pained sound he completely pulls out and starts to climb over to Roger.

John grabs his hair and guides him back between his legs.

“Clean up your mess first, pretty boy.”

Twin groans echo from beside John. Freddie’s cock slowly coming back to life and Roger working his furiously. John turns his head, still panting.

“Bri,” he calls sweetly, “tell Rog to stop fucking into his hand.”

Brian clears his throat and tries to gather his words, “Roger, enough.”

When the blond sends him a challenging smile Brian drops his head and looks through his lashes, “don’t you want me to fuck you?”

Roger’s hand drops to the bed, “clean him then. Fuck. I’m hard.”

Freddie snickers.

“Hush you, lazy bum.”

“Brian.”

His head snaps back onto John’s messy hole. He licks his lips, earning him a trio of groans before diving down.


	7. (E) Casually Permanent

“You like that, hm?” Brian pants.

Sweat beads at his temple as he picks up his pace. Beneath him Roger tosses his head back and practically screams. Roger is a reactive lover at least.

“See what happens, when you’re a good boy for me?” Dirty talk feels awkward on his tongue, but it makes Roger go higher.

He slams in and pauses for a brief moment before pulling out at a much slower pace. Roger opens one glazed blue eye and glares at him.

“I swear to fuck Bri if you don’t – _god.”_

Brian twists his hips nailing Roger on the prostate. The blond yanks down on his scalp and meets him in a messy kiss. He nearly lets the action get away from him.

“Ah-ah, no touching without permission.”

Roger groans in frustration as Brian pulls out complete. The blond blinks his eyes and tears bead in the corner. Brian wants to give in, this is the third time Roger’s been right at the edge but they had to stop because he broke the rule.

“Brimi, please,” Roger pants, “I’ll be good. I’ll suck your dick, please just fuck me.”

“I said no touching,” Brian pants.

This is honestly a punishment for himself as well. Roger looks ruined, blonde hair fanning out behind him, flushed and covered in bite marks. Brian bends down and sucks another mark at the corner of his neck. Roger’s rule was nothing about the collar, this is almost too high.

“Think you’ll behave?”

“Please just let me come,” Roger begs.

“I think you can do better,” Brian hums.

“Bri, fuck me. Please. I wanna come. I wanna come on your cock. Please.”

Brian angles himself and sheathes his dick in one smooth movement. Poor Roger was further gone than he thought and came as soon as Brian was at the base. Roger screams and writhes, his blue eyes trained on Brian’s as his mouth parts into a tiny O.

“Use me,” Roger breathes.

And Brian can’t deny him that.

* * *

“Can you stay?”

Brian blinks at the sleepy form of Roger. He honestly thought that the bassist was asleep, which is he was taking the opportunity to leave. Roger made explicitly clear that Brian’s job tonight was to fuck him asleep. Clearly that had failed.

“Not the entire night,” Roger mumbles, “just until I’m asleep?”

John had mentioned that Roger was cuddly after sex. Who is Brian to deny him?


	8. Missin' You

“When I grow older, I will be there at your side to remind you, how I still love you.”

“I still love you,” Brian hums.

Freddie's song, as usual, is exceptionally beautiful. He wants to hear it from start to finish. The guitar track is building in his head.

“Oh, I like that echo,” Freddie scribbles down the change on his lyric sheet.

Brian strums the harp again. It sounds in tune, and he knows what Freddie wants but he hesitates to play it out for the first time. Why Freddie had wanted him to play it, he'll never know. Freddie smiles and sets the pen on the stand.

“Aren’t you beautiful this morning?”

Brian flushes. He is in checkered flannels and a torn t-shirt. His hair is escaping from the bun, and he’s pale from being dragged from bed at the call of Freddie's piano.

“Says you,” Brian clears his throat.

Freddie moves towards him and kisses him on the forehead. Brian grins and wraps their hands together. The early morning sun makes Freddie's skin golden and his eyes glimmer like gemstones.

“You’re the beautiful one.”

His gaze softens as Freddie lights up. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Brian’s lips, he pushes back and Freddie climbs into his lap. Brian keeps him balanced by holding onto Freddie's hip. For all the time they lack like this, Brian feels like he hasn’t kissed Freddie like this for ages.

“Can you stay?” Brian murmurs into the space of Freddie's neck.

“You know I can’t,” Freddie kisses his temple.

Brian looks up. No longer is the Freddie from Ridge Farm sitting in his lap but Freddie from the late eighties. He glances at the mirror and sees that his dark hair has faded from its youthful brown to the snowy gray of age.

“Freddie, I –” what does he say?

“I know, dove,” Freddie whispers, “Say hi to Rog for me?”

Brian is staring at a head of white-blond hair. He vaguely remembers Rog quietly begging him for something, that he had been worried. The dark pit keeping him in bed has faded slightly. At the reminder of how deeply Freddie loved him and how much Rog cares for him.

Startling blue eyes crack open.

“Get lost, Rog?”

He lets out a slight huff as Roger smacks at him lazily. Brian can still faintly hear the echoes of Freddie’s song


	9. Drunken Bliss

Bridgette grins as she leans forward into Rose’s space. She giggles as Rose smooshes her face together. Jackie looks up from where she is mostly asleep on the floor, pouting but slipping further into a prone position.

Rose nuzzles her cheek before placing a sloppy kiss. Bridgette can feel the lipstick transfer, mirroring Freddie’s kiss.

I’ve got a secret,” Rose whispers.

“Yeah?” Bridgette tips into Rose’s breasts, “I love secrets.”

“I,” Rose places her finger in front of her lips, “sorry, gotta be quiet, but I really really really love you guys.”

Bridgette gasps, “I love you too.”

She leans over the couch, Rose’s hands around her hips keep her from fully tipping over.

“Jackie! I love you.”

Jackie’s eyes flutter open, “I love you! I love Rose! Where’s Freddie?”

All three of their heads turn to where they last saw their fourth member. Freddie is still standing on top of the piano, holding up a glass of something. Rose stands up, nearly stepping on Jackie in the process.

“Gonna get Freddie.”

Bridgette wraps around her hips and pulls her back to the couch, “no. Don’t leave. Miss you.”

Rose hums and sits down on Bridgette’s lap. Playing with her fingers. Jackie manages to scrape herself from the floor and crawls up to the couch, firmly planting her face in Rose’s stomach. Bridgette watches Freddie stumble from the top of the piano before hurrying over.

“My loves!”

Freddie drops onto Jackie’s back. The bassist groans and bucks her hips to knock most of Freddie’s weight off of her. Bridgette watches the crowd, but most party-goers left are friends, too drunk to care, or people who are long used to them.

Rose pulls herself from where she had been happily working a hickey into Bridgette’s neck.

“Freddie! Gotta tell you something. But you hafta keep it a secret!”

Freddie nods seriously.

“I love you. Like so much. Like as much as Birdie loves the stars. Maybe more.”

Tears make Freddie’s eyes glassy. Her lips waver before she throws herself onto Rose. Her knee hits Jackie’s back and Bridgette is pushed to the back of couch. Jackie pouts and takes Rose’s spot on her lap. She nuzzles Bridgette’s neck before sucking on the skin.

Bridgette rolls her eyes. It’s really not a secret as to how much they love each other.


	10. Hidden

Brian keeps his arm pressed tightly to his side. He’s the first one in the studio, which means that he can spend more time working out the ache. There’s a thin bruise working its way down from his elbow and Brian can see the puffiness. He rubs it and clenches his jaw at the lance of pain that shoots down his arm.

At least he is reasonably sure that it’s not broken. Brian picks up one of the acoustics they have around (he is too scared to drop the Red Special) and whines when the body rests awkwardly in his grip. His strumming is clumsy and he can’t imaging fretting with the hand. He can’t play, which means the others are going to notice.

Can he tell them something came up? No, they would have already been clued in on that or he would’ve called them before running out of the studio. They don’t have enough songs to make it reasonable that he spends his day working on vocals, but he can’t write anything either with the pain clouding his head.

They’d make him go to a hospital, an frankly, he is tired of doctors and medical procedures. He certainly doesn’t want to go for something as minor as a sprained elbow.

Roger bursts into the room with an explosion of noise. John trails in behind him with a fond sigh.

“Brian you will never believe the bollocks – what’s wrong with your arm?”

Brian looks down at his arm. He doesn’t see _how _Roger could notice anything with how it’s resting on the body of the guitar and the bruising is facing the ground or his body.

“What?” Brian tilts his head.

Roger glares at him and Brian shrinks back allowing the blond to march over to him. He sends John a pleading look, but the bassist seems more interested in what Roger’s found than helping Brian out. Brian hisses when Roger grabs his arm and pulls it out to straighten it. He jerks it back and cradles it protectively to his stomach.

“What did you do?” John asks.

Meanwhile, Roger has changed tactics and is crouched next to Brian trying to look at his arm from a distance.

“Nothing, it’s just a bit sore,” Brian bristles.

Roger narrows his eyes.

John shifts, “just a bit sore? You looked like you were two seconds away from screaming bloody murder.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s your arm.”

Brian clenches his jaw, “I’m aware.”

He lets Roger handle it, now that he isn’t aggressively yanking it about. Roger's fingers press against the swollen skin and bruise. Brian jumps and tries to twist away but keeps his mouth shut.

“Bri, stop being stubborn, go to the doctor,” Roger says after a few moments.

Brian is about to argue that he doesn’t need a doctor when Freddie bursts into the studio. He takes one look at the situation and walks over them, draping himself over John.

“What seems to be the matter with our lovely guitarist?”

“He hurt his arm and is being stubborn,” Roger huffs.

Freddie raises an eyebrow and Brian sees his opening to get out of going to the doctor.

“Brimi, my love, I hate to see you hurting,” Freddie pouts.

Brian looks away.

John steps forward and brushes strands of his hair away from his face, “c’mon Bri, want to go to the doctor for us? We’ll feel better.”

He closes his eyes, not wanting to give in. It’s only a sprain, he can ice it and wrap it.

Roger leans up and kisses him on the chin, “come on dearest. You go to the doctor for us, and we’ll spend the entire day curled up in bed watching national geographic.”

Brian laughs, “really, it’s fine.”

He tries to not stare at their sad-puppy eyes but fails once he gets caught by John’s gentle gray.

“Okay.”


	11. (E) Sharing is Caring

Brian shifts a little and lets out a breathy sigh as the plug in him rolls against his sensitive insides. Roger is looking at his watch ignoring what he is doing, so theoretically he could get off again before Roger’s little experiment.

“Bri, you’re supposed to show how good you are,” Roger says sharply.

He settles back down, rolling his shoulders as best he can with his hands cuffed behind him. Brian spreads his legs further on the silk sheets and the plug slips a little deeper but is off his prostate which is better for him altogether.

The door opens. He feels a mix of shame and exhilaration knowing that someone is going to see him like this. Kneeling on the bed looking thoroughly fucked, but ready to be used again. Roger had forced him back into the mint green babydoll and wiped off what mascara had run down his face. He is somewhat decent.

Roger has also just let John walk in on him stripped bare and tied to the bed for him to use as he will, so there’s a game to this.

When he glances up, his head had automatically lowered per Roger’s long-standing command, he sees Crystal staring open-mouthed at him. There’s a rush of pride that runs straight to his cock.

“Roger, what?”

“I said you could have him if you kept people from getting their hands on me,” Roger says casually, “clearly the incentive worked.”

Crystal looks at Roger, “but aren’t you two?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m giving permission. Bri? How would you feel about Crystal fucking you?”

“I’d appreciate it very much, sir,” Brian looks up, “I already agreed to this.”

Crystal steps forward one hand reaching towards Brian, the other towards his pants. He whines when Crystal stops.

“Roger?”

“I want to be in the suite, but I don’t have to be in the bedroom,” Roger shrugs, “Bri gets loud enough for me to listen.”

Brian whines.

“You said you wanted him,” Roger grins, “here you go.”

When Crystal doesn’t move for another few seconds, Brian looks at Roger. Roger smirks and nods.

“Get on your stomach,” Roger commands.

Calloused hands keep him from falling over but soon Brian’s cheek is pressed into the pillow, ass in the air. He knows Crystal can see the bright pink toy, and how Roger’s littered his body with marks. Brian carefully spreads his legs out and moans when the toy is pressing against his prostate once more.

It only takes a few seconds before unfamiliar hands are squeezing and massaging the firm skin of his ass. The toy is carefully pulled out, moving in unsure jerks that seem uncertain.

“Don’t feel bad if you bruise him,” Roger’s voice is high in amusement, “his safeword is zodiac. Have fun.”

Brian looks back as best he can. Crystal is still staring at him in awe and surprise. He forces back the smile, knowing that Roger would punish him for being amused at his roadie’s expense and instead blinks demurely.

“Are you going to fuck me?”


	12. Guitar Strings

“You could talk about it, you know?”

John frowns, before tightening the string a little too much, “talk about what?”

“The fact that it looks like you and Bri are heading to divorce with no breaks.”

The guitar string snaps and John barely has time to avoid it whipping into his face. It’s been a long time since he’s done something like that. He removes the bass from his neck and rests it on top of one of the speakers while he carefully removes the string.

“Or you could just ignore me. It seems to be the strategy for saving your marriage too.”

John bites his cheek, tossing the other string into the bin and rummaging around for a new one in his bag.

“Okay, how about I talk about it and you stay quiet every time I’m right.”

There isn’t a spare set in his bag, so he brings Brian’s closer to him and starts examining it for a new string.

“Let’s see, Bri is an insufferable perfectionist who thinks he knows best and you finally decided you wanted more of a voice in our music. You and Fred love disco, so that’s the direction we’re going. Some of it doesn’t sound horrendous. Bri isn’t fond of it, so you took it personally when he started trying to, I don’t know, play the guitar, so you wrote a diss song about him,” Roger rambles, “Bri took _that _personally and hasn’t spoken more than a casual hello to you in a month.”

“Not talking about it seems to work though.”

John finds a new string and gently kicks both bags to the side.

“I mean, Freddie tells me that you’re absolutely miserable. Moping about the house, and I know Bri is miserable, not that it isn’t his usual state of being, but he doesn’t need so much bargaining to get out of bed most days.”

“It isn’t just the music,” John says quietly, “I know how Bri is in the studio, frankly I don’t care about that. Or that he hates disco because we’ve gotten through this album already. Fred’s got him to come around at least.”

“Music tastes would be the stupidest reason to end our marriage.”

Roger hums, “so there’s more than one reason?”

“I think Bri has been stepping out on me.”

John ignores the clattering of drumsticks. When they had been young stepping out hadn’t been much more than a sport, sow their seeds as it were. Now that they’re older, John wants that stability.

“Have you _asked _him about it?”

“I’m scared to.”

“And this is better?” Roger asks quietly, “the dancing around and not living together, with that kind of question over your head.”

“Do you know?”

John is nearly finished restringing the bass.

“If he cheated?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t.”

“Could he?”

Roger hums, “any of us can. We have before.”

John bites his lip, “should we even be together then, if I can’t trust him?”

“That’s your call, John.”

He winces.

“But you should probably make up your mind and put you both out of this misery.”

“I don’t want to hurt Bri.”

“It’ll hurt him. It’ll hurt you. But limbo isn’t going to let you start healing. Either of you.”

The string is bright in contrast to the others. How long had it been since he gave it new strings? He changed them at the start of recording this album but after that? He probably should if they’re fragile enough to snap when he makes them too tight. This is an easier problem to deal with.


	13. Gentle Morning

Brian hums as he sips his morning tea. The weather is pleasant for late spring and there is just faintest hint of roses in the air. It pairs nicely with the citrus tea he was trying out. He sighs happily as a warm breeze tosses his hair, he still shivers and draws his housecoat tighter around him. Rare are the days that he is the first one up in the morning, much preferring his sleep, letting the long nights catch up to him in his twilight years.

He sets his tea down with a tiny _tink. _One of the cats brushes past him and up onto the banister scaring the birds from the feeder. Brian frowns, certain that he had the door completely closed. Arms wrap around him and he jumps in surprise.

“Sorry, dovie,” the voice murmurs behind him, “didn’t mean to startle you. You looked so beautiful in thought.”

“And yet you disturbed me,” Brian says lightly.

“Well, I doubt you were thinking about me, which is a shame, really.”

He laughs as Freddie detangles himself and takes the empty seat next to him. Freddie pours himself a cup watching as the cat takes to chasing the few stray butterflies.

“It’s good we didn’t get him as a mouser.”

“He is doing his best,” Freddie says.

The cat jumps and misses his prey, glancing back at them like it was their fault. Brian twists his palm upwards, and Freddie tangles their hands together. The wind chimes fill in their silence. Brian working on a few of the sweets he brought out (he is cheating he knows, and John is going to give him an earful when he wakes up), Freddie picking and choosing through the biscuits.

Freddie finishes his tea and leans back. Brian steals a glance at him. Even in old age, Freddie has a beautiful look about him, slightly delicate and far less mysterious than when they met so many years ago. The way Freddie’s eyes sag with wrinkles and how his silver hair glistens in the sunlight. It’s stunning.

Brian also remembers thinking in the seventies, when it wasn’t just two blokes, but four, in a band that was their everything, wouldn’t work. John had shared his fear and Roger hadn’t dwelled on the future (I’m enjoying myself now, why worry about when I’m not), but Freddie always had this aura of knowing around him. As he had known they would make it in the music industry.

“You were right, you know.”

Freddie blinks at him, “of course I was, but what about?”

He snorts.

“Don’t tease,” Freddie pouts and leans forward.

“About us. This. Lasting. That we could be happy at the end,” Brian shrugs.

“Well, it was never hard to imagine loving you three for the rest of my days, even when it would have been easier to leave.”

“I’m grateful you didn’t.”

Freddie smiles, “well, someone has to keep you three in line.”

Brian laughs loudly, “oh, and you’re doing that?”

“Jim is,” Freddie shrugs, “and me too because I take his side.”

He rolls his eyes and turns away to hide his smile. Freddie makes a noise and his head is turned back towards the singer. They kiss sweetly, noting more than a press of lips. Brian remembers a time when sweet kisses would turn heated and then they’d have to explain _why _they left their jackets in the hotel hallway. There isn’t a promise of that, but it is a promise.

“Shall we wake the other two? Jim has already started on lunch.”

Brian hums.

“And then let’s stroll through the gardens.”

Freddie helps him stand, his knees protesting the movement slightly. They keep their hands laced together as they head back into the mansion. Their cat, upon seeing he is about to be left outside charges past them, running into his sister who was about to come and explore the outdoors.

Brian tugs on Freddie’s hand. The singer stops and raises an eyebrow at him.

“I love you, you know.”

Freddie smiles and leans up to kiss him the corner of his eye, “I love you most.”


	14. Questioning Fate

John splashes his legs in the pond. His trousers and towel are, hopefully, far enough away they’re safe from the lapping of the waves. His scuba gear is tucked away in the tiny drained hole in the back of the cave. The water is warm, and he shivers at the slightly cooler temperature of the cave.

The quick swish of splashing draws his attention. He smiles and only a few seconds later does Brian pop his head above the surface, water clings to him briefly before rolling off of him, allowing his mop of curls to spring to life. Brian smiles in greeting.

“Hullo, John.”

“Hullo, Brian.”

He drops into the water, using the ledge to keep himself afloat. The water is deep and he feels the slight tug as water rushing out of the cave. Brian swims over to him. Through now familiar maneuvering, John ends up straddling Brian’s silver tail as they drift around the water.

“How have you been?” Brian asks curiously.

John strokes the span of skin just before it turns into a tail. It had been several weeks since he was last able to make it to the coast, each day he regrets deeply.

“I’ve been well. Counting down the days until summer intermission.”

“As am I,” Brian says, “well as best I can.”

He bends down to kiss Brian on the cheek, careful to not overbalance them. The muscles in Brian’s tail flex and his back gets wet from the movement.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not like I didn’t expect to get wet,” John wiggles his eyebrows.

Brian sighs and John barely as enough time to catch his breath before being toppled over into the water. He feels Brian’s hands wrap around his wrist and he pops back up, sputtering saltwater and trying his best to keep it from his eyes. Thumbs press against his eyes for a moment, wiping away the droplets.

“Rude.”

“It’s more fun when both of us are in the water.”

Brian cocks his head, guiding John over to the ledge. Once John as a secure grip and can haul himself onto it, Brian dives away. John counts to 124 before Brian pops back up, once more drying in only a few seconds. John wrings out his hair and holds his hands out.

“I’ve a question.”

“You usually do,” John says softly.

He laughs as Brian flicks more water at him. The merman takes his hand tail dancing nervously in the water as it comes up behind him and slaps the surface of the water. Ah. So it’s an important question.

“Would you rather I become human or would you give up land? So that we may be fully together?”

John blinks. Most of Bri’s questions have to do with the human world as it’s changed, most recently about courting practices.

“I wouldn’t ask you to give up anything,” John says.

“I know, and I’m not asking you that, either. I just wonder, which life would you prefer?”

He thinks for a moment. Brian is his love, and he’ll never love another as he does Bri, but can he give up his life? What about his mother and sister? His friends? Music as he knows it. John purses his lips, but it would be the same for Brian, perhaps most importantly he’d be asking Brian to give up his relationship with Roger as it is now.

“I don’t know,” John says, “whichever way would make us both the happiest we can be.”

Brian huffs and drifts away flipping in the water once before coming back over to him.

“That’s not the answer I want John.”

“I don’t know.”

He helps Brian situate himself between his legs, chin digging into his thigh.

“But would you want us to be together like that?”

“I’d love to be able to spend every day with you, not having to vanish for weeks at a time, longing for you. Or without having to worry about you running out of oxygen while we’re together.”

Brian flushes and pushes up to kiss him, “I didn’t mean that, sap.”

John blinks and then laughs, “did you mean sex?”

Brian drops back down under the water before coming back up still bright red, “that’s fully together.”

He snorts, “Bri I love you. I don’t need sex to know that. Fully together means, you know, not separated like we are. Which will change when I move here in a couple years. Can you be patient?”

John yelps when Brian pulls him back to the water. Lavishing his face with kisses. He giggles and playfully tries to shove Bri away, when that doesn’t work he starts trying to kiss Bri back. It turns into a game of alternating kissing.

He missed Brian so much. Only a couple more years, he reminds himself.


	15. (E) Lazy Lover

“Come on John,” Brian groans digging his heels into the small of John’s back.

John whimpers and angles his hips again. This time he manages to hit Brian’s prostate dead on. He tightens and they both groan.

“That’s it,” Brian pants, “I know you like being fucked, but you should do some work for once.”

He slams his hips against John, trying to get them to pick up the pace. He would almost think John is going slow on purpose, then he looks and sees the familiar playful curve to John’s lips.

“You brat,” Brian huffs, “why –”

John shifts his hips and slams into Brian with surprising force. He loses his train of thought and John takes advantage of his open mouth by shoving his tongue into Brian’s mouth. He groans and sucks, John pulls away and Brian nips at his bottom lip.

“Careful.”

“Or what,” John says breathlessly, “you’re going to punish me?”

Brian growls and brings John back into a bruising kiss, “just because you’re doing the fucking – ah!”

John does two short movements with his hips and Brian falls back to the bed, his legs dropping down from John’s back.

“And you’re in charge?” John smiles cheekily, “doesn’t look like it.”

He spends a few seconds trying to gather his wit. Carefully, he pushes up and John rolls back easily. Now that Brian is on top of John, he sets a much faster pace. Brian knows he’s just using John to get off at that point, angling himself so that each time he sinks down he brushes his prostate.

John leans back, planting his feet firmly on the bed and fingers tracing delicate patterns in Brian’s thighs.

“Fuck,” Brian closes his eyes, “so good for me.”

He feels feather-light kisses across his stomach before he opens one of his eyes slightly to see John looking up at him. He slows his pace, trying to get more accuracy because he’s _right there. _

“Touch me,” Brian barks.

John complies slowly, still a smile on his lips, “and how would you like me to touch you, sir?”

Brian’s eyes roll back up and he sinks fully down trying to catch his breath.

“With your hand,” he growls, “match my pace.”

“So long as you stay regular.”

With that Brian starts up again, keeping his movements even and quick. John’s hand twists around his slick dick easily, thumbing the head before squeezing down to the base and then just barely using his nail on the vein. Brian moans and his brain short circuits. He barely remembers to order John to go faster as he loses himself in the pleasure.

John seems to understand, and the teasing touches turn firm and sure. Brian doesn’t last much longer. He isn’t trying really; he just wants to _get off. _He has worked John up and over twice now. All it takes is him slamming down and John twisting his hand at the top before he comes with a shout.

Brian doubles over himself. John’s sticky hand works him through the rest of his orgasm and to his surprise he feels stickiness slip down his thighs. He groans at the feeling, his eyes rolling back.

When John nudges him, he rolls off and spreads out on his back. Brian spreads his legs even further. John looks half asleep.

“Who said you were done?”

John cracks open one eye, “sir?”

He gestures vaguely down to his lower half, “clean up your mess.”

The sleepiness drains from John’s posture at the command, but he does slowly crawl his way to the other end of the bed. He gently picks up Brian’s legs, which are currently trembling from exertion, and places them over his shoulders.

“I know I’m not as good as you,” John winks, “but try to enjoy, sir.”

Brian opens his mouth to reply but chokes when he feels the first swipe of John’s tongue over him punctuated by a quick kiss to one of his thighs.

_Brat. _He thinks before closing his eyes and enjoying the pleasure.


	16. Baked Goods

Crystal had expected the bakery to go tits up within a few years of inheriting it. He hadn’t wanted it, his job working as a loaner tech is quite rewarding, but his Grandfather gave it to him rather than his siblings or cousins, and Crystal felt like he had to make it work.

Hence the after dark bakery theme.

It worked out well, being only a few blocks off the man strip, his usual patrons are drunk or high, but they pay and tip well and enjoy the sweets. The profit is nice cushioning, so he finds that he can’t really complain, considering he only opens on weekends.

The business is off the main strip, he has gotten used to semi-famous or famous people stumbling in and ordering the remainder of his shortbreads. He gets to close early those nights, and really, it works out better for him.

The one person that he couldn’t have guessed would be Roger Taylor.

He has heard of Queen (who hasn’t), enjoys their music, and has annoyed his co-workers endlessly with complaints about the tech they have working with the drums. It’s nearly disrespectful, and he’s heard of Roger coming in and rearranging it to how he likes it. From what he knows, Queen is rather particular and those few millimeters could mean a difference in sound.

Or that’s how the “main roadie” Ratty explained it to him one night over a pint.

Not that Crystal has any _want _to work with a band that big, considering the headaches they’ll more than likely cause him.

“Are you going to serve me or stare at me?”

“And if it’s the latter?”

“Give me a jaffa cake first.”

Crystal rolls his eyes but digs out the requested treat, adding the tiniest amount of powdered sugar and sliding it over the counter.

“What do I owe you?”

“You’re letting me stare at you, remember?”

Roger laughs but doesn’t seem offended. Crystal nods and goes back to his task of cleaning out the coffee machine. He was planning on closing in an hour, Sunday nights are always the slowest. He drops the rag when he hears a near orgasmic moan echo in the silence.

He turns to see Roger holding up the jaffa cake like it’s the holy grail.

“This is literally the best jaffa cake I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you?”

They’re good, but this seems to be an overreaction. Crystal shakes his head and leaves the two alone, nearly quipping that they should go find a room. Would that be overstepping?

“Hey, do you have any more I could take to my bandmates? John would love this.”

Crystal nods. He washes his hands before grabbing the fancy to-go box, but one suited for a patisserie rather than Chinese food.

“How many?”

“At least three, five if you have them.”

“How about seven, two are free. Just so I can get rid of the lot.”

“I won’t say no to that.”

Roger hands him the money and he slides the box over. Crystal foes take this chance to stare at him. The pictures don’t do him justice. His blue eyes are much bluer and the five o’clock shadow only adds to his mystery. Roger Taylor is unfairly beautiful.

“Thanks, mate.”

“Sure, come again.”

“You’ll be seeing me.”

As excited as Crystal is at that prospect, he dreads it. Does that mean he’ll have to always have jaffa cakes on hand? Part of the fun is never having the same thing twice. He shrugs, Roger will just have to find other things to like.


	17. Long Nights

Roger will never understand why Brian hauls himself out every night into the cold to look at stars. They’re pretty, yes and he appreciates the science of them (one can’t love Brian May without learning to love the stars). He has gone soft, but tonight the sky is heavy with the building snow and only a few patches are bare.

He tugs his coat around him tighter and buries his nose in his scarf. Roger can’t understand why Brian does this, but he doesn’t _know _why he’s out here. Finally losing it probably. The hedges part and he looks up towards the statue.

Freddie’s famous pose immortalized. Roger sticks his hands in his pockets and shuffles closer. He sits at Freddie’s feet, grimacing as the cold stone seeps into his bones, he can’t stay long less he gets stiff and stuck out here.

“Well,” Roger says.

As easy as it had been in life, Roger launches into the woes of his day. His annoyance with British politics and Brian’s most recent bout of melancholy to the tour to missing Sarina to even his coffee being wrong. Slowly it picks up into the good things, a joke Adam told him, the cats finally leaving his damn furniture alone, the new suit he picked up and how he felt good looking in the mirror only spending a few seconds poking on the wrinkles.

He runs out of breath before he runs out of things to say. Roger lets himself sit in silence. It’s quiet, he’d never thought he’d appreciate the quiet so much. His entire life is noise, but everything important has always happened in the quiet.

Even his breakdown in the car after The Call. He swipes at his eyes and breathes deeply. Freddie’s watchful gaze, as it had in life, gives him the privacy he needs to collect himself.

“I know you’re making fun of me, you rotter,” Roger says quietly, “and then you’d tell me it’d be alright.”

It’s true, Freddie had always been delicate for all of his honestly. Roger misses the tact, and these days people think sparing his feelings is worth telling him a lie. He tilts his head back to look up, squinting at the shadowed features.

“Can you wait for me?” Roger whispers.

Whatever havoc Freddie has gotten into will double when they’re reunited. It’s possible that Freddie has found a new group in heaven to be with, welcoming old friends and making new ones. He doesn’t want to think that he’s been forgotten.

“I still have a while yet,” Roger grins, “can’t leave Brian alone, who knows what trouble he’ll get himself into. And John too, he’s come around for tea last month, which he hasn’t done in a long time.”

He pushes himself up, groaning as his joints pop and crack. He looks up at the quickly darkening sky, “well, thanks for listening Fred. Do this again next month?”

It’s the closest he can get to those peaceful nights when they were wrapped around each other, any embarrassment wiped away by pure love. Roger knows he can’t have those again, and there’s no point in really dwelling on them because of that. Still, he misses them deeply and would give a lot for just one more night.

At least long enough to spill his last secret.


	18. Hospital Blues

The first few times, Brian had been too out of it to notice the storms. Between the fever and pain medication, he didn’t much care for anything beyond his immediate reach, given that he could only move his left arm, that halved his field already.

Although it is a lie to say he didn’t care about the loneliness, it was just the least painful thing about his hospital visit. Especially when words like amputation floated about his awareness. There were a few nights he dreamt about walking back to the flat, and his bandmates kicked him out principle because he didn’t warn them.

Not that he _could _mind you, given that he has been in isolation since he began his stay.

The dreams in which the world drowned were probably his most pleasant. They didn’t have him waking up grasping at his head and coughing bile and he could wake up semi-normally.

When things got better though, months and months of medicine and worries. He kept his arm, so he is _still _useful to the band given he set their recording back so long. Brian means better in that he can stay awake all day. He _feels _like death, but he isn’t.

It’s very odd.

There are days that the hospital keeps him up because he can hear rattling coughs and gossiping nurses and the occasional terrifying screech of someone’s heart stopping. Brian longs for the days when he could sleep, even if riddled with nightmares. Usually it’s a nuisance.

Then one of those nights, Brian is staring out of the window towards the hospital garden (at least he has a nice view), and he sees the first spark. His chest tightens and he tries to roll over, but he’s forgotten how his liver still is very much against the sudden movement. He curls up and whines as it hurts.

The second one comes several minutes after that. Brian closes his eyes and then jumps when the thunder rolls. After that the storm seems to have picked up pace, or the logical part of his mind tells him it’s just gotten closer. He opens his eyes and watches the lightning come in shorter intervals. Wind and rain beats against the window and thunder rattles it.

Brian lets out a quiet sob.

When he tries to cover his ears he can only cover one. The storm still leaks through his weak attempt at a barrier. Outside of his room, in the hospital, he can hear nurses walking the rooms. He bites his lips, half tempted to call out for an increase in pain meds to sleep through the storm.

All he wants is John. John who since that first storm, has made up a pillow fort and played soothing music and made silly comforting comments. He doesn’t even need the pillow fort, just touch that isn’t only professional.

He glances out the window as a lightning bolt arcs across the sky. Near enough that Brian can make out the tendrils. This time he does have to roll away from the window. It tugs at his IV and his liver aches, but it helps. Not looking out of the window.

Brian pulls up the thin hospital blanket and tries to pretend that this is just a layer in the pillow fort that John is only getting snacks.


	19. Stay at Home

John towels off his hair. His back is stiff from standing so long, trying to get the bassline to one of Freddie’s new song right. He rolls his shoulders and steps into his bedroom. Like every night before, his heart drops when he registers the lack of presence. The book Brian had been reading (and forgot) before the tour rests on the nightstand. There are a few scattered clothes that John has been meaning to pick up, including Brian’s imperial hoodie.

He lifts it to his nose. The scent has fully faded from it, and he drops it back down to the chair and crawls back up into the bed. It feels too big despite feeling too small most nights when they’re both in the bed. He looks out the window, frowning when he sees that the clouds that had been building all evening, have finally covered the moon.

At the first flash of lightning, his heart breaks. John stands and stares out of the window, tapping his fingers against the sills. He hopes that it was a one-off, and when after several minutes no more happen he is ready to go back to bed. John steps away and another one flashes brightly.

He hopes Brian is asleep.

Regardless Brian would wake up at the quiet roll of thunder. He always does, Brian has never managed to sleep through a storm. John has tried everything from cuddling to sex to noise-canceling headphones. It doesn’t matter, it’s like Brian’s psyche senses it.

John sits cross-legged on the bed, mentally ticking the seconds between flash and sound. Brian hates thunder because he doesn’t know why to expect it (and John has yet to figure out if there is a reason behind the fear of lightning) and so John has started kissing Brian or causing a distraction each time thunder should occur.

Some nights, now they’ve been able to get _back _to sleep at a reasonable time, should the storm happen in the middle of the night.

When the storm picks up, John fluffs the pillows. His mind, regardless of what he tries to think about float backs to Brian. Brian who has been alone for several months save for a few visits from his parents and is now having to suffer one of his worst fears alone.

Next time John thinks something is wrong with him, he is going to drag the guitarist to the doctor himself. This is the longest they’ve been separated since they met, and John hates it. He hasn’t been able to video call in, because Brian is either asleep, or he is. Texts and snaps are only doing so much to keep the longing away.

He wants to march to the hospital and demand entry. John mentally catalogs what he would take. Brian’s Imperial hoodie, the soft hedgehog baby blanket he had bought as a joke, and that tiny fox plush Brian loves.

John prays that the storm is short.


	20. Together, Always

Brian hums as he finishes putting the last few dishes away. In the living room he can hear Roger and Freddie’s peels of laugher and he chuckles to himself wondering what is so funny. He dries his hand and tugs the hair tie out. His curls fall into his face and he ends up shaking them so that they fall into some form of controlled chaos.

Hands wrap around his waist the same time he feels lips against the back of his neck.

“Done, finally?”

“I could have been done sooner if I had help.”

“Hmm, no. It was your turn.”

John gives him enough room to turn around. Brian bends down and kisses him on the tip of his nose. They stand together for a moment, listening as the laughter dies down and the TV filters into the kitchen. A little too loud for Brian’s liking. Roger could just as easily turn subtitles on.

“And yet, it isn’t against the rules to have help.”

“You should have argued this several years ago.”

“Oh, and you would listen to me then?”

“No.”

Brian laughs. John kisses the corner of his mouth. He pulls away grabbing Brian’s hand. He follows willingly. John still the enchanting minx he was a twenty. Roger is curled into Freddie’s side, not really paying attention to the show anymore. Instead focusing on the story Freddie is telling. One they’ve all heard many times before, he’s sure.

“Brimi!”

Roger spreads his legs and Brian takes that as his invitation to lay on the couch. John squeezes his hand once before returning to his armchair and propping his feet up. Freddie snickers.

“Look a Deaky, an old man with his armchair.”

“He’ll fall asleep in it if we aren’t careful.”

“Maybe I won’t wake up stiff,” John shoots back.

Brian understands that feeling, the late fall weather causes his bad knee to ache more frequently. It took him several attempts to get out of bed this morning, finally relying on Freddie to help pull him up the rest of the way. He stretches out his leg, propping it up slightly on the arm of the couch.

“Your knee hurt?” Roger asks quietly.

“A bit,” Brian shrugs, “nothing unusual.”

“We should go out tomorrow.”

John raises an eyebrow, “where to Freddie?”

“Oh, just somewhere. Maybe a walk around Brian’s forest?”

He feels Roger hum under him, “haven’t been out there in a bit. How is it doing?”

“Lovely, everything is growing well.”

Freddie’s hand strokes through his curls, brittle and less soft than they were in his youth, but Freddie still finds comfort in them. Or so that’s what he has said before. Brian doesn’t comment because he loves the feeling.

Roger rubs his thumb over Brian’s knuckles, “if you turn around, I might kiss you.”

Brian hums, “mm, I’d have to move.”

“Have you gotten comfortable already, love?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Brian replies, “but I could be.”

Roger makes sigh that it too fond to be exasperated like he was trying to be. John giggles and Brian opens his eyes to see if something had happened on the TV to cause the sudden outburst. He feels Roger move behind him.

“John?” Freddie calls.

“Nothing, loves, just thinking about how we used to be able to have sex on the couch.”

“Dirty old man,” Roger calls.

“You aren’t any better.”

“How’d we even manage?” Brian hums.

“We usually fell off or broke the couch,” Freddie says.

Brian beckons John over to him. There is a low groan as he gets out of his chair and climbs on top of Brian, careful to not bend any joints in ways they don’t want to move.

“It’s bizarre,” John says.

“What is?”

“No. Bizarre isn’t the right word, but we’ve been together for almost fifty years.”

“Of course we have.”

Brian and John share quick kisses. He feels Roger tense up behind him, but mostly to be loud.

“There’s no way you knew that Fred!”

“And you said the same to me when I said we’re going to be the biggest band in the world.”

Roger sputters.

“Face it,” Brian laughs as John kisses his John, “Freddie is usually right.”

“And yet you have the Ph.D.”

“We’re not talking about space,” Brian shrugs.

John’s face lights up, “we don’t seem to know the meaning of the word.”

Brian agrees while the other two laugh. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Truthfully, he’s forgotten how to exist without someone in his immediate vicinity. This moment is the nearest he’ll ever get to calling something fate.


	21. Silent Chaos

“Uh,” Roger crosses his arms as he stands in the doorway of Brian’s room.

The guitarist must’ve camped out here last night working on his thesis, instead of joining them in their main bed. Not that Roger could blame him, considering he had John had been sniping at each other all day before it erupted into a “can’t you keep your mouth shut for ten minutes, Brian?”

He had come to investigate the rhythmic tapping on the wall. His and Brian’s code for when it had just been them fucking each other and doesn’t quite understand what’s happening. Brian is clutching his throat and gesturing wildly.

“Okay. What’s happened?”

Brian sends an unimpressed glare.

“What?” Roger tilts his head.

Brian crosses his arms.

“You can’t talk – oh my – you can’t talk. Why can’t you talk? Are you sick?”

Roger dodges the pillow, “sorry, I’m not awake but more importantly _why?_

Brian gestures aggressively.

“If you don’t know how am I supposed to know!” Roger replies.

Brian shrugs.

“You know, let’s get coffee. Maybe whiskey and sit down and talk this out.”

Brian sighs.

Roger hurries into the kitchen. John is resting his head on his arms, and perks up when Roger enters, looking around him for Brian. His face falls when Brian scowls at him. Freddie pats him on the back before handing Roger a steaming cup. He takes it and sips it gratefully.

“Brian lost his voice,” he says after a moment of worshiping his coffee.

“What?” John says the same time Freddie hurries over to their guitarist.

He watches Brian bat Freddie’s hands away from his throat and moves to the corner of the kitchen, sitting in the “off-limits” stool. It’s mostly off-limits because it’s a death trap, but at least you can have a moment to yourself if you sit there.

“Okay,” Freddie says, “was he feeling poorly yesterday?”

“Not physically,” Roger shrugs, “he kept fighting with John so maybe something came on.”

“Are you implying this was my fault somehow?”

“No? How would it be?”

Freddie hops up to sit on the counter, “magic.”

“Magic doesn’t exist,” both Roger and John say at the same time.

“Jinx!” Roger gets it out a second before John can.

The bassist sticks out his tongue.

“So what? Brian somehow develops a cold the day after John wishes he’d be quiet?"

John winces and Brian’s scowl deepens. He steps between their gaze so they don’t start fighting. Brian might be hazardous without a voice.

“Yes,” Roger shrugs, “weird timing, but there’s no such thing as magic.”

Thunder and lightning disturb the tentative peace of the flat. Freddie raises a finger –

“We’ve been expecting this storm all week,” John says, “at 9 am. Guess what time it is?”

“Okay,” Roger turns towards Brian who has his arms crossed, “are you sick?”

Brian makes a shaky hand gesture and points to his throat.

“Well yes,” John replies, “but seems a bit odd to come on so strongly?”

He waves his hands and then points back to himself.

John frowns, “well why didn’t you tell us this was a problem before?”

Roger looks at Freddie _are you understanding any of this?_

Freddie shakes his head. Brian makes a few more elaborate gestures and then ends it by crossing his arms with a huff. John rolls his eyes.

“We should probably get you to a doctor to make sure it is just that,” John replies.

“How?” Roger flicks his finger between the two of them.

“BLS,” John replies, “I learned it with Bri.”

“Why?”

“It was 3 am and we wanted a secret language.”

Roger raises his eyes. Freddie looks mournfully into his coffee, “I wonder if I’ve put weed in it again?”

“No, it’s under the sink,” Roger replies, “wait, what do you mean again?”

Freddie shrugs.

He dumps the rest of his coffee down the sink, “you know what. It’s exhausting being the sane one. Wake me up when Bri can talk again. Goodnight.”


	22. Roadie Fun

The door to the hotel opens. Trip raises an eyebrow but otherwise doesn’t move from where he has taken Crystal’s thigh as a pillow. He shrugs, the other two were meant to wrangle their bosses and get them to their rooms for the night. He gives it about a fifty percent chance that they managed to wrangle Roger considering the mood he was in at the end of the show.

It has become a Not His Problem because Roger promised him one night in Japan free of responsibilities. Hopefully, someone got him back, Crystal would hate to lose his boss. Job hunting is a pain.

John or Brian probably stepped in. Maybe. Brian had also been in a mood. He’ll have to ask Jobby about that.

Speaking of, Jobby turns the corner and stretches his back. He smiles softly.

“You two get your rocks off while we had to play babysitter?”

“Of course,” Trip wiggles his eyebrows.

Crystal rolls his eyes, “how was your night?”

“All is well. Brian and Roger are in John’s room, because all three of them passed out. Freddie is somewhere, but alive.”

He couldn’t ask for more, really. Jobby crosses the rest of the hotel room and kisses Crystal on the cheek in greeting, and Trip wiggles up to get one on the lips. Crystal looks around their third member waiting for the heavy footsteps of the fourth.

“Where’s Ratty?”

Jobby looks behind him.

Trip sits up, not supporting himself, but more awake than he had been a few moments ago.

“He was behind me.”

“Did you lose Ratty?”

Trip snorts when Jobby shrugs, “more like Ratty lost me.”

“Where?” Crystal sighs.

There goes his peaceful night, he can’t just leave his boyfriend wandering around in a foreign country that he can’t speak the language in. No matter how well it works for Roger (then again he usually has to track down their wayward drummer).

“Well, he was with me at the afterparty.”

“There’s a good twenty blocks between,” Trip says, “and he probably wasn’t sober. How far can a drunk man get?”

“Depends on how fast he’s moving, probably ten blocks in any direction.”

Maybe he should stop basing things off of Roger’s escapades. Then again none of his boyfriends have to go track down their “assigned” bosses. John handles himself and Freddie has half a dozen more handling him. Jobby must do the awkward back-patting with Brian when he gets into a mood.

“Well.”

Trip pushes off of him and Jobby quickly replaces him, knees slotting beside him. Crystal raises his eyebrow, but responds eagerly when Jobby presses their lips together. He grips the belt loops to keep the other from falling off. There is another warmth on his side, Trip sneaking in to steal another kiss. He buries his hand in the dark hair tugging lightly.

“Wait your turn.”

Trip moves back arching his neck beautiful as Crystal keeps the pressure on his hair. Jobby moves down to mouth at his neck. Crystal groaning when he feels the other tech start sucking.

“Hn,” Trip moans, “do you think we should go find Ratty.”

Jobby rolls his hips down.

Crystal bucks up, “we’ll give him a few hours to figure himself out.”

“A few hours,” Jobby mumbles, “bit cocky ain’t ya?”

“I don’t know, am I Trip?”

Trip grins, “sorry, you lost me at the word cock.”


	23. Birthday Card

The card was tucked away in one of his album sleeves. John had put the collection away in a box in their spare study after everything. Ronnie had mentioned something about Luke wanting to listen to an album on vinyl but not being able to find it. He was certain that it was something he had.

Maybe it was time to get rid of a few albums too. He had set their old Jazz album to the side, carefully fiddling with the worn edges from how many times Ronnie had listened to it. Jazz had been one of the only things that could get Michael to sleep. The card slipped out. It was clearly homemade, some of the glitter flaking off has he handled it.

John lifts it and stares in wonder. It’s yellowed with age and a lack of care, but he still knows exactly what it is. He turns it over and smiles as he sees the stamps of stars, arranged in his zodiac constellation. Probably even to scale of the true constellation.

_Happy Birthday, Deaky!_

He runs his hand over the thin script, tight even at its size. Brian must’ve been using a pen nearly out of ink, he can feel several pen strokes on the paper, sinking through the other side. John opens it inside.

Four stick figures greet him. All drawn in crayons, and the colors don’t match at all. They must have only had six in the house because Brian has black curls instead of brown and he and Roger both have gray eyes. He snorts. Brian had put so much attention into drawing the red special and the Deacy Amp but seemed to think circles were good enough for Roger and Freddie’s microphone.

Part of him is certain that Freddie and Roger had hijacked the card from Brian and that the stick figures were actually Roger, if only because Roger had lines indicating he was glowing while Brian had an angry frown.

Even his bass matches the one he was using at the time. Meticulous in shape and color.

Roger’s nearly illegible scrawl is under the stick figures, _Happy Birthday! _

He turns the card upside down to read Freddie’s upside down handwriting. _Happy Birthday, my dear, and many more!_

John runs his finger over both wishes. Reverently on Freddie’s. Closing his eyes for a moment he can remember the sound of Freddie’s erratic pencil scratches as he wrote lyrics. Or anything. The quick _click scratch click scratch _he broke so many pencils because he always tapped the tip.

He dashes a hand over his eyes and looks at the final page. If he remembers right, they had given him a total amount of 12 pounds and some change. All of what they had in their pocket at the time. They had also gotten Jer to make a curry for them and Roger cajoled Clare into making cupcakes. Brian had managed to get wine and bread at a discount.

They had then spent the night in front of the telly, watching whatever movies they could find. Roger and Freddie flicking stray pieces of rice at each other while Brian corrected the science in the movies in a terrible American accent.

John clears his throat and reads the final page. There’s a beautifully drawn heart, no doubt Freddie’s page. It’s intricate and looks like something that should be done on icing on a cake in a French patisserie.

Inside the heart QUEEN ('73) is written in an elegant font, a color gradient of purple and yellow. There is a halo of yellow paper while the rest of the heart is colored in dark red.

Underneath the heart, Freddie’s scrawl reappears _next year, we’ll make sure to have the fanciest dinner at the greatest restaurant because you deserve the world John Deacon (and you can bring Ronnie!)_

John carefully sets the paper on top of the album. He stands and reaches for the box of tissues. Dabbing his eyes cautiously and tossing it into the bin. Ronnie steps into the room.

“Love, are you alright?”

“Yeah, dust and old paper,” John coughs, “we wouldn’t have any album protectors lying around?”

“Cameron is on his way over, I can call him and have him pick up a packet.”

“Thank you.”

Ronnie kisses him on the cheek and smiles sadly at the old album, “Roger and Brian are back in the UK. It looks like they had fun.”

John smiles, glad for the update. He is grateful for Ronnie’s enjoyment of social media and Luke’s dependence on it. Maybe one of these days he will be able to check on the tour’s progress himself. If only to make sure that Roger and Brian are still having fun.


	24. Guiding Candlelight

Freddie crawls over Roger, who grunts but quickly quiets when he buries himself in John’s side. He steps lightly, avoiding the cat tail sticking out from under their bed. Faint coughing can be heard from down the hallway and he walks quietly to the living room. The room is lit by a single candle. He walks around the couch to see Brian laying on the couch, blanket buddle up by his middle.

He glances up with sleepy curiosity.

“Hello, love.”

Brian hums and wiggles back on the couch. Freddie takes the space, careful to not jostle Brian too much and pulls the blanket back over them. It’s a tight fit, and Brian has to lay on top of him to be comfortable. He likes it though.

“Did you get kicked out of bed again?”

“No, just thought you might be creating a fire hazard again,” he gestures towards the unlit candle.

“Hm.”

Freddie plays the tassels of the throw. The bed creaks down the hall and the refrigerator starts humming louder. A car honks as it passes by, bathing the room in yellow. Bright enough that he can make out the lingering paleness and sallowness of Brian’s cheeks. He doesn’t miss the calculating look Brian is sending him.

“Oh, stop that.”

He knows Brian is raising his eyebrow. The candlelight might not be much but it’s enough. Freddie jumps when he feels Brian’s hand stroke the back of his. It only takes a few more moments before Freddie sighs.

“I had a nightmare. The one I’ve been having about you.”

Brian rumbles something, “I’m okay.”

“Well, yes I know that. Tell that to my sleeping mind.”

Brian wiggles up and kisses the crown of his head, “I’m okay.”

Freddie laughs at the breath tickles his head. He tangles their hands together.

“Think that’ll do it?”

“I think you coming back to bed will do it.”

Brian squirms back down and rests his head on Freddie’s shoulder, “I’d love to. The couch isn’t comfortable.”

“Oh, you just want the bed.”

“I was going to say it’s too cold too.”

“Hm, acceptable.”

“But I don’t think we can deal with another incident of Roger kneeing me in the stomach again.”

Freddie reaches down to stroke the soft skin there, “how is it feeling?”

“Good.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Tender still.”

“Well, heal fast. Change is annoying difficult, and I’d rather you come back before I get used to only two bodies.”

Brian turns away and Freddie knows it is to hide his eye roll, “of course your highness, let me just change biology for you.”

“Roger would.”

“Roger is a biologist.”

Brian snorts, “if you’re going to sleep out here, then sleep, otherwise go back to your biologist.”

Freddie strokes Brian’s curls, “and leave you to wither away out here alone?”

“No withering, only snoring.”

“Ah, the one bright side.”

“Hush you.”

“Of course, dove. Sleep well.”

“Night, Freddie. Love you.”

Brian drops off quickly. Quicker than Freddie is accustomed to. He rubs Brian’s back, his hand brushing over the slight knobs of his spine. Not that he’ll tell Brian, or any of the others this, but he really can’t bear the nightmares he has been having. Where would they be without their Jimi Hendrix, his Brimi?

Nowhere Freddie wants to think about.


	25. Royal Expedition

“I’m not getting married,” Roger crosses his arms.

His father looks unimpressed with the tantrum, “Roger, you’re a prince.”

“I don’t get to be happy?”

“It’s not the end of the world,” Michael sighs, “and besides they’re arriving tomorrow evening.”

“And you decided to spring this on me today?”

Michael does look slightly guilty at that, “it’s so I only needed to increase the guard for one extra night.”

“Father! You can’t keep me imprisoned in my own castle!”

“It is not your castle yet. I am sorry Roger, but you have shown that you are not always the most agreeable or reasonable prince.”

He turns his head up and once more Michael sighs.

“I’ll let you have your leave to rest.”

“This is my room!”

Michael tosses his cape and hurries out of the room. Roger throws a pillow at the closed door and then starts ripping off his dress clothes. Not caring that he can hear the seams rip, but he does feel guilty that the seamstress will have to fix his mess. Once he’s in a plain tunic and his pants, he unlatches his window and pushes it open. There is enough of a balcony he can stand on.

He winces when he knocks the flowers from the railing but he stretches up and hooks his fingers into the ledge and hauls himself up. Roger doesn’t look down as he climbs. Never one for heights, but he hates being locked up more. As expected, the window is wide open and within six minutes his great escape is planned.

The guest room is empty save for one lone servant. Crystal stands with his hands on his hips.

“One of these days, the fall will kill you.”

Roger shrugs dropping onto the mattress, “at least then I won’t have to marry a complete stranger.”

“It’s the soiree of the century, your highness,” Crystal replies dryly, “there will be other princes.”

“Probably arrogant pretty boys who don’t have a day’s work in them.”

Crystal raises his eyebrow but starts to fold the linens.

Roger huffs and crosses his arms, “run away with me.”

“Being accused of treason is a hard no for me. How the maids-in-waiting would talk.”

“They aren’t completely wrong.”

Crystal wisely doesn’t answer.

“I don’t want to be married. It’ll to a woman, and I’m expected to have heirs!”

“Is it the woman or the heirs that you object to.”

“You’re supposed to be helping me.”

“I am.”

“How so?” Roger pouts.

“I kept the window open for you.”

Roger looks up, hoping that Crystal is looking at him. The servant isn’t, but Roger keeps his pout in place, “are you truly not going to run away from me.”

Crystal sets the linen down, “I would in a heartbeat. If you had a plan.”

* * *

Roger tugs on the tunic, some of the embroidery is scratching his neck. Since Crystal refused to run away with him last night, citing among other things, the fact that he doesn’t have a plan, it means he has to be at the soiree. His father guides him around the room introducing him to half a dozen different dignitaries and leaders.

The other royals have yet to arrive, and he mostly wants the feat that comes after all the pomp and circumstance. Crystal trails behind him attending to his wine glass and guiding away tail riders. Roger hasn’t said a word to his servant tonight, which he feels bad about because Crystal is clearly feeling guilty about putting Roger through this.

Oh well.

The page blows his trumpet once. Roger smiles and bows at the minor noble lady he had been talking with. Clearly, she’s upset that they have to part ways. She hadn’t gotten to listing all her titles and heritage for marriage yet. Roger corrects his crown and strides towards the throne.

He hopes that he doesn’t look too ridiculous. His father does, wearing a heavy bear pelt cloak in the middle of summer. To show off that he had killed the bear of course. The Queen, his mother looks absolutely stunning in her simple dress, but far too much jewelry. Clare is in a similar state, but her hair is covered, and she has a polite look of boredom.

She isn’t being married off yet. Roger struggles to not cross his arms. Crystal sends him a sympathetic look as he disappears behind the throne stand.

The page reads through the usual accomplishments and territories before he introduces the first Royal. A princess from the northern sea. Pretty, like they all are but that’s all.

Several names pass like that before the first Prince is introduced. Roger looks up, he has heard interesting things about this kingdom. Mostly their extravagant dress. The King is dressed in dark reds and golds, his crown the band of his station instead of the jeweled ornate thing most wear. The one deferment of station his father is offered.

Behind him is the prince. Freddie Mercury. Roger remembers hearing some of the gents and ladies of the court discuss his beautiful singing void. Shaming the gods on how he looks. He can’t see anything wrong with the Prince. He is stunning, dressed in gold but wearing dark purple accents, a golden circlet is skewed on his head. The way he moves is graceful, and Roger _feels _the gods create the connection between them. His father side-eyes him and Roger realizes he has been leaning forward. Quickly he corrects his posture, but apparently, Prince Freddie noticed and sends him a wink.

Another name of a foreign princess is read.

Roger looks interested at the call of the second Prince. This one has turned up without his parents. The first thing he sees is the dark crown of curls. A silver circlet barely contains them. Prince Brian, his name is. He wears navy blues and a half cape with the laurel branch of his kingdom. The Kingdom of Peace. Roger tries to remember anything he has heard in court. Brian is a bit bookish and shy; the rumors call him _odd._

All Roger sees is sharp curiosity.

The third and final prince is read after Brian. He travels with the princess, his sister. Prince John is classically beautiful. His brown hair is gathered into a proper plait and a copper circlet arches in the middle to cradle a tiny emerald. The Kingdom of Prosperity, or so they were called. John is dressed in the dark green and maroon of his nation. Roger knows no one has said a bad word about John, but they haven’t said anything particularly outstanding about him either.

There are secrets that Roger wants to know.

The rest of the royals blur together, and he runs through the ceremony on autopilot. They still have an hour before their feast, wanting to give the royalty enough time to mingle and perhaps start negotiations. His father beelines towards a Queen of the Southern Kingdom with her four daughters and Roger bolts the other direction.

And straight into Prince Brian. He bows and receives the appropriately lowed bow back.

“Where are you off to?” Brian smiles, “to a tray of cheeses and meats that are hidden away.”

_Oh gods. _Roger falls in love with his voice.

“No, I just…”

Well he doesn’t know what he was doing.

“We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting, I’m afraid we’ve also missed a step, Brian May, Prince of Stellos.”

“Roger Taylor, Prince of Rica.”

“If your highness – “

“Don’t call me that,” Roger raises his hand, “I can tell how much you hate it.”

Brian flushes, “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You haven’t.”

He nods.

“Roger, then, would you care if I introduced you to Prince John of Rosesea. We’ve been friends for quite some time.”

Roger wonders why his father never lets him attend parties outside of the kingdom, he has never had the chance to create connections with other princes. He follows Brian, gesturing for Crystal to come with. If this is an assassination attempt, he’ll have someone to protect him.

John is leaning against the wall talking with Freddie. They both bow when he and Brian approach.

“He’s like us,” is the first thing Brian says.

“I thought so,” Freddie smiles, “Freddie Mercury, how do you do? And who is your shadow?”

“Crystal,” Roger motions for him to come closer, “my man-in-waiting as it were.”

“Ours are all getting ready.”

Roger blinks, “for what, exactly?”

“I’m John, by the way,” he raises his hand, “pleasure.”

Brian wraps around John, they press their cheeks together. Roger may not have much experience with other cultures directly, but he does know in Stellos, that gesture is equivalent to Roger pulling up his wife’s skirt. They must be very close. Freddie sighs.

“Lovebirds. What can you do?”

“As though you’re any better with your, servant,” John forms air quotes around that last word.

“Jim has never just been a servant.”

“Okay, but what are you getting ready for?” Roger asks.

He can hear his father calling for him.

“Running away, of course.”

“And you’re taking me with?”

Crystal clears his throat, “I uh, I might have been in correspondence with his highness, Brian for some months. His manservant, Trip, is the son of one of my father’s friends.”

Roger smiles, “you. That’s why last night – you – why?”

He bows, “my duty, as sworn to in a royal oath, is to assure above all your happiness.”

Crystal grips his hand and kisses the back of it. Then flips it over to the palm. The acceptance of a courting offer. Roger blinks. Crystal hadn’t said he would marry above his stature. It being too improper.

“If you leave, you’re abandoning your title. That means we’re the same.”

“I am leaving. I can’t spend another minute here.”

John grabs Brian’s hands, “then we must leave quickly before they notice our absence.”

Roger grabs Crystal's hand and follows behind the other three former princes. After so many years of wishing this moment would come. He has never been more afraid of what comes after. The fates let him know that he was meant to know Freddie, Brian, and John.

He has suspected that Crystal would be the one he would court properly, and give him a vial of crushed rose petals, his one and only.

The rest he doesn’t know.


	26. Fae Nights

Brian has forgotten the feel of mortal grass. The way it bends and breaks underneath his feet. For a moment he misses the way it would part and caress his ankles as he strode through it. It is colder in this mortal world; he realizes that it is night in this realm.

He forgets that this world is whim to its rules and not whim to magic. The Fae learned of his love of stars and made it forever day. Brian glances upwards, the stars have changed. Fewer now and the air is heavy with toxins, perhaps he is used to the lightness of magic-soaked breaths. It clouds his lungs, but he presses on. If he can make it to the Edge then he’ll be free.

Or as free as can be. He has fed on Fae drink and meal. Magic twists through him, it saturates his skin and twines with his essence. It lives and breathes within him. His… and not. If he can make it to the Edge, then the bindings cannot last through the dawn of the end of Samhain. He feels the heat seeping through the Earth, that night is moons away. Fae magic is weaker at the Edge.

Only a few moons to be himself again. Dare he?

Behind him, the woods chitter and his foolishness and cheer on his daring. These woods are alive but stilling, the magic breathing life into them for a moment. Fire curls around his wrists and tightens around his neck. Old sigils light up and cast the forest in a dark purple glow. His muscles freeze and he drops to his knees.

Only a few meters away is the Place where the Forest Ends. The edge.

He drops his head to the ground when he hears footsteps. The sigils forcing air from his lungs and not allowing any into his head. The ground grows dim. Brian has forgotten the feel of the sigils. In the years, he thinks it has been years perhaps, he has learned that fighting is useless.

Now he realizes the spell losing its grasp on him and the open door to the mortal world were follies for him to believe in. His arms are pulled behind him, and head forced back by invisible clawed hands. They cut into his wrists saturating the sigils with his blood forcing them to grow stronger.

Tears stream down his face, his eyes on the Edge. The will to fight bubbles in him, but he has not the breath to crawl. It too is trapped by the sigils.

Iridescent wings spread their light over him. Brian lowers his eyes, keeping them on the Path to the Edge.

“You see now,” the voice curls around him, booming and a whisper.

His gaze drops to his knees. The Fae lifts his head up with a single finger. Brian knows better than to look them in the face. Lest their magic takes a deeper hold.

“Your desperate want of freedom has grown tiresome. I allowed you a taste, and you should be grateful.”

“I am,” he replies.

_So close._

“What the bloody hell is that light?”

Brian’s eyes open. Mortals?

“Tch,” the Fae clicks their tongue, “I’ll give you a lesson to love, pet.”

Brian drops his gaze again. Bracing for flame or ice or thorns. The Fae removes their finger from his chin.

“That molded in the Fae world will always desire it,” they purr, “but I’ll let you have your fun. You’ll be a better pet for it.”

“Thank you, Master,” Brian replies.

The golden illumination from the Fae vanishes in a wisp of blue. The sigils sink back into his sink, the purple glow with it. Brian looks towards the edge and then to where the voices are coming from. If he remembers right, there is a human settlement within the walls of the woods.

Three mortals stumble through the tree line. Brian spares the Edge another glance. What lays beyond the Forest? Could he live it long enough to reach Samhain?

“Seven hells,” one of the mortals say.

Brian looks at the speaker. Brown hair is plaited but falling free. His, for this is a mortal and appears male, hands are up as though preparing to defend himself.

“He’s been touched by Fae,” the second one says.

Brian looks at him. Blond hair flows freely. He does move away. This mortal looks as beautiful as the Fae, with bright blue eyes and a round face.

“Well, we can’t leave him out here,” the third day, “he’ll catch his death.”

Can he die? Rather, can he die a mortal death? Fae wine changed him, but he does not know how it has. The Fae did not care to let him learn.

“And when the Fae find him?” The blond says.

Brian does know the answer to that. He keeps his lips firmly shut against the urge to answer. The sigils heating underneath his skin, next to his spine.

“They will not search,” Brian whispers.

He cannot lie any longer.

“Do you have a name?”

Brian shakes his head. He cannot give his name again.

“Hm, probably made you forget it,” the first one crouches down next to him, “could call you Bird on account of you looking like one.”

It works for him. He has been called pet for so long that he does not care what he is called.

“I’m John, the smiling one is Freddie, and the grumpy one is Roger.”

Their names are given so easily? John holds out his hand. Brian takes it cautiously. He feels not the sear of Fae magic, but something catches behind his heart. Almost a call of longing.

Brian prays he can beg off the call until the Dawn of the End Samhain.


	27. Promised Starlight

Roger knows he has been a rotten boyfriend these past few weeks. Part of it is his fault, he should be able to separate bad days from good nights with his partner but he has had a string of bad days. Brian says it’s fine in that tight-lipped smile of his and then turns in early so Roger can’t spend proper time with him.

So with John and Freddie’s help, he has plans that will make up for it. Before Brian somehow works himself into thinking Roger is going to leave him (having already confessed to Freddie that he is worried Roger has stopped loving him), the stupid genius that he is.

He pulled out all the stops that he could. Granted his late-night picnic plan is ruined by the heavy rainstorm, but he is adaptable and nothing will stop him from proving to Brian that yes, he still loves him. John helped him prep the food, well the cake Roger can handle making finger foods. Hopefully, Brian likes vanilla bean cake, it’s the only thing John knew how to make.

Also, it’s naked because they didn’t have enough frosting after they put it between the layers.

Freddie helped him with the ambiance. The right wine and music, the proper clothes (apparently Freddie doesn’t believe that he can dress himself). Except he must admit the outfit is nice, and the wine should be good.

Now all he has to do is wait for Brian to come home and the wooing can begin.

The lock rattles and Roger quickly moves to the entryway. He wants to keep the living room a surprise until Brian is ready to fully absorb it. Brian steps into the flat, his hair flattened by the rain and his umbrella nowhere in sight.

“A casualty of the storm,” Brian laughs.

Roger grins, “well take a shower, I have a surprise for you.”

“And the house hasn’t burned down?”

Roger sticks his tongue out and then steps to help Brian out of his coat, hanging it up over a towel to save the hardwood floors. Brian kicks off his clogs. Once Brian is partially stripped, Roger raises onto his toes and places a chaste kiss. It is returned eagerly.

“Shower, go.”

“Bossy.”

He swats Brian’s bum, “come on!”

“I’m going!”

“Don’t look in the living room.”

“I’m looking!” Brian singsongs.

“No!” Roger rushes tugs him past the doorway.

Brian laughs and pins him against the wall. Roger laughs and kisses him again. Pulling Brian forward by his curls. They kiss and nuzzle at each other.

“I’ve missed you,” Brian whispers.

“You have me now,” Roger says, a tiny twinge in his belly, “I’ll even shower with you.”

“What happened to being eager for your surprise?”

“I can be eager for more than one thing.”

* * *

Roger makes sure Brian’s eyes are still closed as they walk into the living room. Their shower had lasted until the water ran cold. He flicks on the record player as they pass, Brian quickly humming along as the first soothing notes of Hendrix fill the flat.

“Now can I look,” Brian smiles, “I’m starting to think you’re trying to hide a body.”

“I wouldn’t, we live here! It’d be awkward.”

Brian snorts, “ah yes, the only reason to not have a body in your house.”

Roger smacks his arm, he steps back, “okay.”

He watches hazel eyes take in the details of their living room. One of their thick blankets is on the floor, along with a basket that he borrowed from John who borrowed it from Ronnie. The sandwiches are neatly stacked and the cake thankfully hasn’t shifted any.

“Roger, what?”

“Well, the monsoon ruined my plans for stargazing.”

Brian laughs, his eyes glimmer. Roger panics for a moment thinking that he has done yet another thing wrong but then Brian is wrapping him in a tight hug.

“I love it. I love you.”

“Well, good. I’m not romantic for everyone.”

Brian dots his face with kisses and he thinks that step one of wooing Brian and making up for being a shit boyfriend is a complete success. Even if they’ve also already checked off step three in the shower.

“I love you as there are stars in the sky.”

“Millions of years away and dead light?”

Roger rolls his eyes, “the number, you nerd.”

Brian laughs and Roger kisses him on the cheek, wrapping himself in the sound of Brian’s joy.


	28. Backward Love

> **1997**

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Brian looks up from where he is putting the Red Special away. John is bouncing on his toes, hands in his pocket. He is looking away from Brian and towards where Roger is micromanaging the drum tech.

“This,” Brian gestures vaguely, then he flicks his pointer finger between him and John, “or _this.”_

“**This.”**

He swallows and bows his head. It isn’t a surprise, but it feels like his heart is being yanked from his chest regardless. Brian rubs at his sternum and bites his cheek.

John steps forward and grips both of his hands, “I’m sorry.”

Brian doesn’t know if he forgives John, but he understands. Perhaps its less understanding and more acknowledging John’s feelings. John squeezes his hands and leans up to kiss him on his cheek.

“I’ll have someone –”

“I’ll stay with Roger for a few days.”

John smiles sadly.

> **1991**

John kisses Brian on the corner of his mouth the day after the world ends. Brian doesn’t remember getting into bed, but he must’ve. He is still dressed in his button-up but his slacks and tie are gone to the wind.

He watches John stand. John wears a soft black t-shirt overtop long pajama pants. Brian wants to say something, but he can’t find the will to form words. John gives him a slight quirk of the lips. Brian returns it with a nod.

In another world, this would have been a gentle good morning kiss. In another world they wouldn’t have to hide from each other in their own home. That world would be fairer.

> **1986**

Brian runs a hand through his hair. His own courage buried somewhere between his third and fourth ribs. It is nearing two in the morning and the bed is cold. He tugs the blanket around him as he holds a mug between his hands.

The tea has long gone cold.

At half three John finally stumbles into the house. He nearly falls flat on his face. Brian cannot truthfully say he is glad John avoided that. Maybe it would knock the sense into him that he lost.

“Bri!” John yells.

Brian sets the mug on the table and opens his arms. John hugs him tightly and presses kisses across his face. When Brian doesn’t respond John pulls away with a frown.

“Brimi?”

“This has got to stop. It’s getting out of control.”

“I’m having fun, Brimi,” John says a touch defensively.

“You’re worrying me half to death,” Brian replies, “I can’t stay up half the night praying you’ll make it home in one piece. Either this stops or I’m gone.”

John blinks, his eyes sobering quickly, “I’ll call someone in the morning.”

This time when they kiss Brian responds.

> **1982**

“Brian, fuck’s sake!”

John’s hand wraps around his wrist. Brian steps away from the edge of the building. He doesn’t fight John wrapping around him. There is a fine tremor, and Brian isn’t convinced that it is entirely due to the chill.

“What on earth were you thinking?”

“I just wanted to know what they saw.”

John’s voice breaks, “why?”

“I don’t know,” Brian clutches onto him, “I thought maybe I could clear my head.”

“Clear your head on the ground floor,” John yells, “not on top of a roof!”

“Sorry.”

John kisses him, there’s a sting of salt, “when this album is done, just you and me for an entire month, okay?”

Brian tilts his head.

“Swear it.”

“Okay, you and me. For a month.”

> **1977**

Brian stretches out on the sofa. He is pleasantly buzzed and a tipsy John is straddling him. The original purpose of John sitting in his lap forgotten, but he closes his eyes as John tugs and rearranges his curls.

“Brimi?”

“Hm?”

Uncoordinated hands slide over his face. Brian opens his eyes and blinks to bring John into focus. John’s nose is only centimeters away from his.

“Brimi, I want to promise you something!”

“Okay, love, what is it?”

“That I swear, that I will love you until the end of my days.”

Brian smiles, “I swear I’ll love you until the sky runs out of stars.”

John crosses his arms, “that’s much more romantic.”

Brian skims his hand over John’s face, “then you’ll only have to outlive the stars.

> **1972**

“Hey, Brian?”

Brian looks up from the Red Special. John is fidgeting with his fingers and looking away. He sets his guitar in her case and tosses the polish rag to the side.

“Yes, John?”

“I’d – I have something I’d like to talk to you about.”

He scoots back. There is plenty of room on the couch but he wants to make John feel welcome. After a year of being together, Brian still doesn’t know where he stands on John’s list of friends. They get along, certainly, but John looks to Fred like a big brother and Roger is his partner in crime.

Brian is just… well he feels like Brian.

John sits near enough that their knees are touching. He pushes away the feeling of butterflies and clears his throat at the heat in his face. John catches his hand and squeezes.

Brian blinks as John kisses him on the cheek. Then on the lips when Brian doesn’t push him away. Brian is the one to deepen the kiss, once his brain catches up with what’s happening.

He breaks the kiss to catch his breath, “this isn’t much of a talk?”

“I figure we skip that part and go right to the fun stuff,” John grins.

He can’t help but agree.


	29. Unfortunate Circumstance

Roger sighs and ruts against the bed. John raises an eyebrow before returning to his reading. He almost manages to look like he’s not interested but Roger can smell the deep-seated arousal. He whines louder and splays his legs wider. This time he does earn a reaction from John.

“This is your own making, you know,” John replies.

“Well take pity on me. I know I fucked up.”

As usual, he should have listened to John and gone out and hunted instead of another night of being fucked until he can’t see right. It had left both of them lethargic (vaguely and later incredibly horny) because they have to wait for Brian and Freddie to stop fucking long enough to think right and get them a meal. Fucking werewolf mating cycles.

“You weren’t complaining so much when you were on the receiving end of it,” John grins, “let Freddie finally have his fun with Bri.”

_Get out of my head, you twat. _John laughs and returns to his book.

Roger rolls onto his feet and steals John’s book. John leans back, holding Roger’s hips.

“I was reading that.”

“No, you were ignoring me.”

“They aren’t mutually exclusive. I can read and ignore you.”

Roger grinds his hips down with a cheeky smile. John groans and bucks into him automatically. Neither of them is hard, but god does Roger want them to be. He leans his head back at John’s gentle prodding. Fangs skim across his neck before John licks the skin to soften it.

The feeling makes him whine and his legs spread further. John pulls off with a cocky smile, “doing alright there, Rog?”

“Fuck me.”

“No can do.”

“Hn,” John’s hands slip down his trousers, “fuck can’t I take Freddie’s place while he gets us dinner.”

“You want to fight the werewolf in the middle of his cycle be my guest.”

Roger groans. He falls from John’s lap pulling the bassist towards the bed. John follows sedately. The room’s scent is heavier with arousal and magic, but as expected, he _still _can’t get it up. John crawls on top of him, returning to his previous task of suckling on Roger’s neck.

He groans and whines. John hums when Roger scratches down his back and tears through his shirt. He desperate wants any friction in the hope that he can fight his biology. Roger is near tears in frustration, but John keeps teasing him. His thumbs are swiping over his nipples. Roger gasps and John is shoving his tongue down Roger’s throat.

This time he fights back pushing off his back and tugging and pushing at John’s clothes.

There is a knock against the wall. John growls and pushes Roger behind him when he sees Freddie grinning. Roger smirks at how he sees the bruises and scratch marks on his open chest. It frankly looks like he’s been mauled.

“Delivery for two,” Freddie sing-songs, “love to stay but I don’t know how long Bri is going to stay asleep.”

Roger sniffs. The faint scent of humans wafts through the house.

“They’re in your dining room,” Freddie says, “and do think about something other than the goth vampire aesthetic, it is so tacky.”

Freddie vanishes in a puff of golden smoke. Roger is up on his feet and running towards the dining room, ignoring John’s laughter behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freddie is also a vampire. Brian is a werewolf.


	30. Library Friend

John ignores the mental image of Veronica giving him a thumbs-up as he finishes typing the number into his contacts. He saves it as “Library Person,” and then switches over to his messages. He reads the ones from Brian.

_The tempo is fine, but I think the pitch is off. – Bri_

_I was talking about Fred’s new song. Don’t tell him. – Bri_

_Fred says sushi is fine for game night. Wants to know if he can bring Jim? – Bri_

_Was Doctor Atkins in the engineering department before she became part of the physics department? I swear she treats us like engineers. – Bri_

_No offense. – Bri._

John snorts and replies to each message in one text. Then he creates a new message. For a moment he hesitates and then selects Library Person. John’s thumbs hesitate over the keypad before he starts to type. There is nothing to lose with a complete and faceless stranger.

_Hey. I found your number in a book in the library, _Electricity _something or other. Sorry if this bothered you._

He sets the phone down and starts to get work done when his text tone goes off. John half expects it to be Brian but instead sees that his Library Person has already responded.

O_h, I just did that in a bunch of random books. I didn’t want the ruining the book fees._

_This is cool, never expected someone to respond._

John has no idea how to carry the conversation forward.

_Tell me about yourself? No names! The point is to be mysterious._

That sounds fun. Perhaps Library Person can be his secret confidant. At least when it comes to band frustrations. John types back the message faster now.

_Okay _ _😊 _

* * *

Five months later John knows everything about Library Person – now Rainbow – except for his name. John imagines what Rainbow could look like. Clearly handsome judging by how many flings he’s had in the short months they’ve known each other. He carefully doesn’t search for the reason why he imagines Rainbow to look like Roger, his other crush.

Roger is Brian’s best friend from a former band. They’re currently trying to persuade him to join the band. None of their arguments are holding any ground to him.

John ducks outside of the party he’s at. The thumping of the music starting to give him a headache. It's fine when it’s disco or rock n’ roll, not music designed to be noise. He was also getting tired of Brian’s attempts to get into the pants of whoever looked his way twice – or rather to get someone in his pants. John _almost _feels bad for Trip, who Brian is currently hanging onto and – oh now he’s grinding – he sends a snap to Crystal.

_Trip is going to have a good time. _Crystal replies.

_He’s going to say yes?_

_Duh._

_Crush or?_

_Rumors say Bri is a good lay. Can confirm._

John is going to pretend to have never read that last message. A second later his phone lights up with a message from Rainbow.

_You aren’t at the party on 16th, are you?_

John shrugs. _I am._

_No shit. Same. Shall tonight be our fated meeting?_

He grins in excitement. As much as he likes this mystery, the thought of finally meeting Rainbow causing butterflies in his stomach.

_If you want to break the mystery._

_I really want to kiss you._

John blushes. They had a little game of pretending to have fallen I love with each other, granted its less of a game on John’s end. He debates for a moment before sending a picture of the view from the balcony.

_Come find me, pretty boy._

Rainbow doesn’t respond, and just when John is about to give up that he is going to be meeting anyone tonight. He turns around to see Roger leaning in the doorway, looking very similar to the cat who stole the cream. John’s phone pings and he looks down to see that he’s received a message. The image is of the back of his head.

“Hi,” Roger steps forward, “nice to finally meet you.”

“Why do I have a feeling you knew?”

Roger blinks his blue eyes the picture of innocence. His curled lips tell a different story, “I saw a conversation you were having with Bri at the same time you were complaining about it to me.”

“Which one was that?”

“Does it matter?” Roger smiles, “was recent though.”

John raises an eyebrow, “I do remember you saying something about wanting to kiss me?”

“Yeah,” Roger pauses, “although I didn’t need to know about Crys and Bri.”

“Did you have to bring this up now?”

“Right, sorry.”

John crosses his arms before pulling Roger towards him. Roger goes eagerly they pause only a few centimeters apart.

“Kiss me, Rainbow.”


	31. (E) Tour Date

If Brian was being honest, he is more than a little confused as to how he ended up in this situation (this entire tour is weird), but he was far from complaining. Crystal hovers over him, behind him? Skimming his fingers down Brian’s ribs. He twitches away from the sensation, but a quick application of pressure stills him. He whines quietly, wishing that he could just tell Crystal to get on with it, but considering the gag… that’s not going to happen any time soon.

Crystal _finally _reaches his ass, gently massaging it before spreading his cheeks. He hums, and while the pitch mimics one of surprise it sounds entirely fake. Brian rolls his eyes grateful that his hair is covering his face.

“Kept it in,” Crystal murmurs, “good boy.”

The praise goes straight to his dick and he ruts forward even knowing that he isn’t going to be able to get any friction. If he had known that Crystal was a possessive bastard… this probably would have happened earlier, if he’s being completely honest. Roger’s direct employee or not. He groans as Crystal gently pulls the plug out. Brian tightens around it, unhappy about being empty for the first time all day.

“Shh, you’re such a needy boy.”

Brian pushes back against him, spreading his legs. Anything to get Crystal to just _move _faster. Crystal swats him and he arches back, pressing his tongue to the silicon ball in his mouth. Drool leaks out of the corner and he does his best to wipe it away. His plan is foiled when Crystal pulls back on his hair, straining his neck. He breathes heavily through his nose.

“You always are quite a wet dream, Bri,” Crystal whispers.

He whines.

“Loud too,” going to be quiet if I take the gag off?”

He’s sure that Crystal is going to take the gag off regardless, given that Brian feels the ache starting to form and he has a habit of losing his breath. He nods. Crystals grip changes from tugging to petting and then his fingers find the clasp of the gag. It falls to the bed and Brian tosses it away before he lands on it, then replaces his hands' grip on the headboard.

“Good boy.”

Brian preens and arches his back. He moans when he feels Crystal bite at his inner thigh. His hands are back to spreading Brian’s cheeks.

“Hm.”

He tries to keep still. One wrong move and Crystal is going to drag this out for hours. The man has the patience for it (anyone who can manage Roger must have saint-like patience – okay stop thinking about Roger when he’s about to get fucked by his employee). Crystal squeezes and then his hands are gone. Brian whines and while he wants to demand it, Crystal’s sharp order of _don’t talk _rings in his ears. He’d hate to be a disappointment.

The click of the lube causes Brian to shudder and spread his legs even more. His balance is precarious, and he’s completely stretched out, but anything to make this go faster. Crystal leans over him as two fingers slip inside. Brian gasps and pushes back against them. It only takes a few more seconds before a third joins and teases his spot. His volume increases but a warning slap for Crystal forces him quiet.

Crystal then bites him on the shoulder and suckles the spot in apology. Brian quirks an eyebrow, wondering – knowing – why Crystal broke the no marks rule.

“You’ve been a good boy for me tonight,” Crystal whispers into the back of his neck, “but what about today? Hm. I saw you prancing around about the stage. Too needy for sex, wanted someone to take you on that stage.”

Brian turns his head more and grins. Crystal _had _noticed then; Brian wasn’t entirely sure. The man has one of hell of a poker face.

“Guess I need to remind you who owns you.”

_For the tour, at least. _Brian thinks.

Although Brian knows that the lesson will be completely sunk in by morning, he might need remedial lessons in the morning.


	32. Stone-Cold Prediction

Freddie walks through the street fair. The lights and the noise, it felt like a pause in the world of chaos. He stumble-stops when two kids run in front of him, screaming about the Ferris Wheel, the parents smiling apologetically. Freddie watches them go, how the two parents’ hands are twisted together and share matching looks of love.

He won’t say he is lonely. He has friends but he’s shy, which is why he is here alone even after he nearly pulled the cord out of the wall by tugging it taught and letting it coil again. It is fine though, it lets him _see _the world. How the yellow lights catch on the colorful glass decoration and spread a rainbow out in front of him.

“Care to know your fate?”

Freddie turns to see a beautiful woman sitting cross-legged on a Persian rug. Well, a mock-up of a Persian rug, no _sane _person would put one in the grass. She has her hands hovering over a crystal ball, but instead of the “exotic” outfit he would expect to see (and really why did people immediately gravitate towards sarees for fortune tellers?) she wears a lacy purple dress.

“How much?”

She smiles, “for you, my dear, free.”

“Oh?” Freddie rubs the back of his neck.

Is she flirting with him?

“Your aura drew me to you,” she beckons him over, “I’ll admit curiosity.”

Freddie shuffles over. He glances to see if anyone is paying him any attention, but most of the crowd is towards the middle of the fair, where the more engaging attractions are. The stores are why he is here. He sets down and mirrors how she has her legs crossed.

“So do I give you my palm or?”

She turns around and lifts a brown leather sack, no larger than his palm and pulls the crystal ball off its stand. A carved piece of wood replaces it, almost like a long plate.

“Reach into the bag, grab a handful and then toss them here,” she gestures to the plate, “clear your mind first. If a spirit nears, let them.”

Freddie raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t exactly want to go messing around with the other side. Nothing ever good happens when you invoke spirits. The fortune teller doesn’t seem bothered and he shakes his head, he doesn’t _believe _in ghosts anyway. He is just cautious.

The bag is held out to him and he digs in. It feels as though the bag is filled with tiny and extremely cold pebbles. He closes his first and pulls it out, careful to let any strays fall back into the bag, then he tosses them onto the plate.

They rattle for a moment before still. Freddie rubs his palms on his pants while the woman stares and hums occasionally.

“You’ll be loved,” she says finally, “deeply. Truly. By many.”

Freddie smiles. He doubts that _many _bit, but maybe the other part isn’t so far from the truth.

“You’ve got three others tied to you. See here,” she gestures to a cluster of runes, “they’re bleeding into you, they’re so completely bound.”

Freddie doesn’t think he knows anyone like that. There are a few people who he’d like to be that close to. He just hasn’t figured out how to actually talk to them.

The fortune-teller tuts, “short but brilliant.”

He frowns “wha –”

“Freddie?”

He turns to see who is calling him. He spots a mess of blond, the red blazer almost glowing in the warm light. Behind Roger, Brian follows pushing his hands deep into his pocket, treading carefully on the uneven ground.

“I see now.”

Freddie glances back to the fortune-teller.

“Freddie! It is you! Mate, come help me prove to Brian that the games aren’t rigged!”

Freddie grins and stands. He dusts his pants off, but when he turns around the fortune teller is gone. Roger jumps on him and drags him to the side. Freddie stumbles and with Roger’s screeching in his ear Brian’s warning is muffled.

“What were you even doing out here?” Roger squints.

“I thought I saw a cat,” Freddie replies.

Roger rolls his eyes, “you and cats. Like Bri and his badgers.”

“Hey!”

“Come on!”

Freddie grins, “lead on, blondie.”


End file.
